Disclaimer: Read at your own risk, proctology involved.
Being a mother brings many new and wonderful things into your life. These are the things that everyone focuses on when you become pregnant. Your mother, your aunts, your friends will go on and on about the wonder and beauty of the blossoming pregnant body and the miracles that are held within that bulging tummy.
Those of you who have had babies though, you know it's all just a guise. We're trying to be supportive and distract you from the truth. Being pregnant sucks. Your body becomes this container that your previous self tries to lean how to control. You fart, you burp, and you start to smell weird. In fact, everything starts to smell weird because your senses are heightened to the point where you can smell the stinky cat box of your neighbor 4 doors over.
In my case pregnancy ruined a part of my body that was previously undisturbed. I had no problems. I had no issues. Until that first miracle of life grew to ridiculous proportions within my uterus. (Remember, Gracie was a whopping 10 pounds, 12 ounces.) This issue remains with me to this day. And I want it gone.
What is this bane of my existence you ask? Hemorrhoids. Oh how I hate them. And 10 months post partum I'm pretty sure they aren't going anywhere. They have set up camp and are determined to remain with me for the rest of my life. I am their very unhappy host. So I declared war.
For this war I know I need someone good on my team. " A proctologist" my dear husband told me. "He'll know what to do."
So I made my appointment. And yesterday I went. I wasn't worried, because I've had a baby. You know, I've gone through a pregnancy and suffered every indignity known to man, up to and including perfect strangers making contact with my cervix, so I didn't think that having someone look at my butt could possibly be that bad.
Well, it was.
First off, there's the waiting room. Sitting in a room full of people who are all there for one reason and one reason only. To have their butts examined. It's disconcerting to say the least.
Then I went to the exam room. There was an exam table which I had never seen before. I couldn't figure it out. The nurse left and I was sitting there looking at this table trying to figure out how this was all going to go. The doctor walks in and we have a nice discussion about my problem and what I want done. So, then it's time for the exam. He sends the nurse back in and she explains it's a kneeling table. Oh....right. So I am to kneel on this table with my rump exposed to the door. Okey dokie. So I do what she says and then once I am in the most prone of positions she starts moving the table until my head is down and my butt is nice and up in the air. Wow what a feeling.
Then the doctor enters. I hear the door but I can't see anything because I am staring at the wall. And with no warning at all he just dives right in. In trying to distract myself I had a striking thought.
Who in the world do you have to piss of in med school to become stuck in the profession of proctology? I mean really. Surely no one chooses that as their specialty. I don't know much about the world of doctors, but I imagine that no one runs into medical school with the ambition of being a butt doctor. I think it must be some sort of punishment. You ticked off a professor or something. You slept through one too many lectures. You didn't make the grade and were told "Well buddy, it's proctology or dental school, take your pick."
Anyway, things were over with quickly and the doctor and assistant left for me to redress. Then he comes back in to discuss the situation. And he has the audacity to tell me that I need surgery under general anesthesia in order to have my problem fixed.
And that's when I realize it. That's how they get you. These proctologists get the last laugh. I mean, can you imagine what goes on when you are unconscious on the table and they are operating on your butt? "Pass the spreader nurse" followed by giggles all around.
No way Jose! I am getting a second opinion. If it's not something someone can shoot full of Novocain, stitch up, and send me on my way I'm not interested. No one will be making jokes about my butt except me. Unless I'm out of earshot.